


a heart that beats like wings

by Jerevinan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Dragons, Fantasy world au, First Kiss, Love at First Sight, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerevinan/pseuds/Jerevinan
Summary: Every prince or princess born is given a dragon when they are ten. A decade after Noctis receives his dragon, he flies to her homeland of Tenebrae. There he meets a bespectacled man in the palace gardens he doesn’t want to return home without.[ignoct week, day 2 - Fantasy World AU]





	a heart that beats like wings

Every prince or princess born is given a dragon when they are ten. A breeder from Tenebrae brings them from across the sea, and it is on the ocean journey where hatchlings become juveniles.

Noctis receives his dragon on his tenth birthday, a tiny black creature the size of a cat. She hops from the palm of his hands to his shoulder and curls around his neck like a collar. The breeder and his father seem satisfied with their selection.

Noctis bestows upon her a name: Penelope.

Penelope flies around the castle, prowls the crypts of the Lucian kings, and grows with each passing month. She misbehaves as much as the young prince. Noctis waits for the day when she is big enough to ride her.

Penelope first takes to her harnesses when Noctis is fourteen. 

When Noctis is nearly sixteen, he is able to fly her over Insomnia.

It isn’t until his twentieth birthday when he dares cross the ocean to visit her homeland of Tenebrae.

~*~

Noctis spots the floating islands of Tenebrae as dawn breaks. He directs Penelope to land in a field of sylleblossoms. They share breakfast consisting of garula jerky as he rests against her ribcage. Penelope finds a stream along the meadow and drinks.

They spend the following hour circling the towers of the palace. Noctis eases her as close as she can get to the various windows and peeks inside. There are servants making beds, sweeping floors, cleaning chimneys. 

Noctis dismounts Penelope in a statue garden, the hedges tall enough to obscure her. She curls next to a likeness of Eos, wings tucked aside, and closes her eyes.

“Be good,” he tells her, but of course she will—she has only ever causes mischief with Noctis, never against his wishes. They share a bond that only others with their own dragons can understand.

It will be safer to explore the palace while Penelope is hidden. Noctis tries the latches on several of the windows but they’re all locked. 

That is, until someone swings opens the casement behind Noctis and a bespectacled young man pokes his head out.

“Is there something I can help you with?” The man’s voice is surprisingly calm, and he rests his elbow on the window ledge with his chin in palm.

As Noctis steps closer into the shade cast from the building, the sun stops reflecting off the man’s glasses. He has a handsome face—a good shape, with lovely eyes and lips. 

“Who are you?” asks Noctis, seeking a name in which to call this beautiful stranger.

“I should be asking you, since you’re trespassing.”

“Noctis.”

The man’s eyes examine him carefully a few minutes before they widen in recognition. He straightens his back. “I’m sorry, your Highness. Are you here to see Queen Sylva? Or perhaps Prince Rav—”

“No.” Noctis curls his fingers around the bottom of the window sill and hauls himself through it. His boots land softly on the carpet. A library—bookshelves taller than a fully grown dragon with rolling ladders to reach their heights. The one in the Citadel is pathetic in comparison. “Don’t tell anyone I’m here. I’m exploring.”

“That isn’t protocol. I might add that it isn’t appropriate for a prince to gallivant around without his guard, either.” 

“What’s your name?” asks Noctis.

“Ignis Scientia, your Highness.”

“Oh. Scientia. Someone in your family works for my father.”

“Yes, my uncle.”

“Well, Ignis, I’m not a prince today. I’m not anyone. Think of me as a shadow.” Noctis puts his finger to Ignis’ lips and waits with a smirk.

Ignis’ eyes narrow, but then he sighs, warm breath against Noctis’ fingertip. “Fine.” Ignis peers out the window. “You must have brought your dragon. I suppose it hides in the gardens?”

“Her name is Penny. Leave her alone. She’s resting up for our journey back to Lucis.”

Ignis stares out the window beyond the hedges, as if looking for a glimpse of the majestic black dragon whose scales match the color of the prince’s hair.

Noctis cuts his way through the library, glancing around the corners of the bookshelves for an exit. Who could read so many books? Footsteps hurry to catch up with him from behind as soon as he finds the large double wooden doors. A palm slaps against the base of one as Noctis pulls the knob.

“You can’t wander around without an escort,” says Ignis sternly. 

“Are you offering?” Noctis grins.

“Well…”

“Well?”

“Yes,” Ignis exhales. He scoops Noctis’ chin in his fingers, an electrifying touch that sends the prince’s heart pounding. “But we’ll need to disguise you. There’s a good chance if anyone in the royal family sees you, they’ll recognize you. You have met them on their visits to Insomnia. Come with me, and be quiet.”

Ignis leads the way down the corridors. There isn’t much chance for sightseeing; Ignis moves swiftly, turning a corner and hurrying down a narrow staircase meant for servants. If Noctis isn’t quick, he’ll lose sight of him. It isn’t easy on his leg, which suffers from an injury he sustained when falling off Penelope when he was fifteen. It tries to lock up halfway down the steps. Noctis’ annoyed cry of pain echoes and brings Ignis back.

“I’m sorry. I had forgotten about your injury.” Ignis slows his pace after that, glancing over his shoulder to check periodically on Noctis.

They cross through a laundry room filled with maids washing bedding. The room is open on the side of the floating island, the thick steam rolling over the stones and into the clouds. Clothing hangs from lines strung pillar to pillar, drying in the sun. 

They reach a large storage room, filled with shelves of folded bedding and towels. Ignis rifles through clothing until he finds a folded blue embroidered scarf. 

“This is one of mine—the only one wide enough to work,” says Ignis. “I had hoped to wear it tomorrow, which is why I had it washed, so please make sure to give it back to me. And try not to get it dirty.” He flips it over Noctis’ head and begins to adjust it so that all of Noctis’ hair is tucked beneath. He is close enough Noctis can smell the citrusy cologne dabbed at his neck. His stomach feels fluttery, his heartbeat erratic.

“There. It would be less tacky if your riding cape had a hood, but this will do.” Ignis pats the sides of Noctis’ head gently over the scarf. 

“You’re drawing more attention to me this way.”

“You’re right. Take off the cape and carry it. There’s no reason to have it on inside.”

Noctis obeys and folds the cape over the crook of his arm, pressing it near to his body. This tour is becoming more of a chore. The scarf makes his head feel hot under the thick damask cotton. It’s hard to see with it falling into the edges of his eyesight, but he supposes it must be so close to his face to keep his hair hidden and his eyes less conspicuous. 

“Follow me,” says Ignis, leaning in toward Noctis’ face and smiling. He turns and exits the storage room as a blush creeps across Noctis’ cheeks.

~*~

Ignis leads Noctis through the halls, giving him history lessons with the paintings and sculptures that decorate the palace. He speaks in a warm, passionate voice, and Noctis doesn’t listen to the words so much as its honeyed melody. 

In comparison to the somberness and minimalism of the Citadel, the palace in Tenebrae is rich with blue and green decorations. Even the people they meet in the halls wear bright colors and don’t look twice at Noctis’ scarf. They’re more interested in his clothing—gloomy black that stands out against the cheer.

He never would be able to traverse these halls without being spotted, if not for Ignis. His guide waves questions about Noctis away, easily letting lies slip from his trained tongue.

“King Regis sent him on an errand,” says Ignis. “He’s a member of the Crownsguard.” No one asks Noctis his name, once they learn his station is beneath them. If only they knew they were snubbing the prince… 

But Noctis prefers it this way.

It takes two hours to circle around the palace without getting too near to the throne room or any place where the Fleuret family ventures often. Without Ignis’ help, Noctis would have stumbled into Lunafreya, whose daily routines involve a wing of the palace Noctis wishes he could explore. They haven’t seen each other since they were twelve and sixteen, but surely she would recognize him even eight years later.

They’re near the statue garden when Ignis pauses at the doors. 

“Was it to your liking?” asks Ignis.

“Better than I expected,” admits Noctis.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

When they make it back to the yard, there is a man running out from the hedges, his gardening tools clutched in one hand while the other pins his straw hat to his head.

“There’s a strange dragon!” he shouts at Ignis. He uses his rake to point toward the hedges. 

“It’s all right,” says Ignis in a soft voice. “I’m aware. Don’t worry. It belongs to the prince.”

Noctis’ eyes widen. “Why would you—”

“You’re about to leave, are you not? What does it matter now, if anyone knows?”

Noctis sighs and begins to unwind the scarf from around his head. The gardener watches him with interest. 

“Thank you,” says Noctis, taking Ignis’ wrist and pressing the soft fabric into his palm. “Please see me off.”

“Of course.” Ignis turns to the gardener. “You may resume your work elsewhere. I’ll inform you when the area is clear.”

The gardener bows, but Noctis can hear him grumbling about dragons as he begins raking away the leaves in the grass.

Penelope is still curled around Eos, but her head lifts at their approach. Noctis finds the pouch at her flank and pulls out a strip of garula jerky, and she takes it greedily. 

“If Tenebrae was to your liking, does that mean you’ll return?” asks Ignis as Noctis mounts. 

“I’d like to, if I can get away.” King Regis is likely to bar Noctis access to his dragon after this stunt and have the Crownsguard at his heels—at least for a few weeks. 

“I see.” Ignis smiles.

“You should come with me,” Noctis blurts. “You can work for me!”

“I’m afraid that would be rude to her Majesty. She’s been so kind to me.” 

Noctis’ gaze drops to the back of Penelope’s neck. He feels like a fool. 

“But perhaps she’ll allow me to transfer. She and King Regis are good friends, and I would love to get to know you more.” 

Noctis peers up at Ignis. Beneath him, Penelope shifts, but he places a hand on her shoulder to command her to stay in a resting position. If she moves, he won’t be level with Ignis.

“Come closer?” Noctis asks.

Ignis steps forward.

Noctis reaches out a hand and brushes his fingertips against Ignis’ face. He leans in, as does Ignis, and their lips meet for a sweet moment before Penelope shifts again in her impatience.

“Thank you, Ignis!” Noctis cries as Penelope stands and takes off. “Come to Lucis!”

“I will!” Ignis shouts back.

Noctis glances over his shoulder and watches Ignis wave until the distance is too great to see him. He lets out a laugh in the wind and hugs Penelope’s neck, never having felt lighter or freer in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> the idea changed so often while I was writing it, but I like how this turned out in the end! part of me wants to continue this, but I have a ton of chaptered fics to work on. we’ll see how it goes in the future. ^^
> 
> btw: Penelope is just so I could name her Penny which…was inspired by Pendragon. I’m soooo original. \o/


End file.
